Colonel Mustard and his 99 problems
by TrillionVermillion
Summary: Comedic take on end of 2003 series. Ed and Al have destroyed the gates to Shamballa, but the story of Mustang's unit is an open question. Will Roy and Riza ever get the fairytale ending they deserve? Not at the rate that Roy is screwing up! *Please review after reading! I have literally no idea what my readers are thinking about this one.
1. Idle hands

A young woman in the navy blue uniform of Amestris set down a large stack of papers on the Colonel's desk. She was right on time, as usual. This girl was a perfectionist.

"Colonel Mustard, sir! Today's papers requiring your signature for acknowledgment, they've been sorted to reflect their priority. Perhaps you would care to sign them now rather than later, for the sake of expediency."

...her voice trailed away. Col Mustard was not listening to what Leftenant Dove-eye was saying.

'Dear god! Protecting the state all the time is hard work. Maintaining the right posture is the hardest part. So many papers to sign, let alone read or understand. My back is killing me…'

Mustard arched his back and heard his spine cracking. So satisfying!

"Sir?"

He stretched his arms and yawned. It couldn't be helped! He'd had a sleepless night and had just barely made it to his desk before Dove-eye showed up.

"Don't worry, leftenant. I'll have these papers out of here in no time." He waved at her, expecting her to go away.

Riza did not believe him for a moment. She was getting fed up with him for leaving the papers to the last minute every day for the past week. She stepped forward to confront him.

"Colonel," she began

"Lisa," he countered

She wanted to smack that idiotic grin plastered on his face, she wanted to pull on his ears and make him say 'uncle'.

Instead she restrained her urges as usual: "You have an appointment at three o' clock today. I will remind you ten minutes prior."

"Thank you, leftenant. Would you like some coffee? I'll go make a batch right now." He winked at her.

The hours flew by uneventfully. The only reason Col. Mustard stayed awake was due to Leftenant Dove-eye's presence at his side. It began to grate on his nerves, being watched by this stern woman daily, whom he feared, some day, would discover his utter incompetence at his burocratic duties: actually, his incompetence at everything, including flame alchemy.

"Ten minutes, sir-" she whispered into his ears as he was about to nod off. "Wh-ah oh yes! Thank you leftenant," Mustard said as he straightened his posture.

The door opened and a slender, middle-aged woman in a green, formal dress and skirt walked up to his desk. This woman had a minor resemblence to a certain Juliet Douglas of Fuhrer Bradley's former administration. A mere coincidence! Nothing Sinister.

"Colonel Mustang, it's a pleasure to see you again, shall we get started?" The renowned psychiatrist employed by the state, Dr. Emilia, asked the colonel.

"Yes, of course, doctor. Leftenant?" He gestured to Hawk-eye to read the notes she had.

"Since the initiative code-named L.A.X, we have reported a three percent rise in troop morale and a four percent rise in concentration. This is a statistically significant increase from the previous-"

She held up her hand. "Oh please, lieutenant, forgive the intrusion. I thought we might try a different approach today. Why don't you step into my office, Colonel?"

"Doctor?" Colonel Mustard drooped his posture and looked to Leftenant Dove-eye for guidance. She avoided his gaze intently.

Col. Mustard shrugged and followed the renowned psychiatrist to her office.

"Lie down, Colonel. Your back must be sore from sitting at that rigid desk all day," Dr. Emilia motioned to the sofa in front of her desk.

"I'm fine this way, Dr." He stood, rigid as a tree trunk.

Dr. Emilia spoke up: "As you must be aware, I've sent many notices to your office regarding the surveys your unit has taken to gauge mental health and psychological propriety in the military."

Colonel Mustard frantically searched in his mind for these notices and drew a blank. He offered Dr. Emilia a cordial smile and hoped she wouldn't notice his blank expression.

"Well, Colonel, let's get down to the nitty gritty. Your unit scored among the worst in all of the units that took the test. Everyone in your unit appears to be suffering from acute stress, lack of direction and ambivalence. Our Fuhrer Grumman, who has led the state ever since the deposition of king Bradley, has asked me personally to reverse this disturbing trend in your unit."

"What?! But the L.A.X initiative!"

Dr. Emilia chuckled. "Colonel, you can't seriously expect your unit to allay stress by ordering everyone to call each other silly names. What do they call you now?"

"Colonel Soy Mustard," he hung his head low and sat down on the couch. "Hawk-eye is now Dove-eye. Havok, we call him captain hook, Breda is Brie cheese, Fuery is, what's his new nickname?"

"Colonel, I'm sensing that there's a deeper problem lying beneath this whole charade. What do you really think of them? Of your subordinates?"

"They're-they're excellent soldiers, ma'am."

She sighed. "You can trust me, Colonel. Nothing you say leaves this room."

Colonel Mustard lay down on his back. "It's just that, we've fought hard to defeat all the enemies that have risen against the state. We've kept this country safe against all odds. But now, in peacetime, we've all trying to adjust to this strange stillness in the air."

"We must perform our duties no matter what. But ever since those Elric brothers took off, it feels like the story's over. So what are we doing here exactly? Ya know?" Mustard waxed on philosophically

"It's not just a job, it's our life! Everyday we receive orders and obey, everyday the same rigid statutes and blank faces. Military service takes its toll on our everyday whims and wishes. I can't remember the last time I wasn't on call 24 hours for emergencies."

"You're saying, you don't have room to be yourselves, Colonel?"

Colonel Mustard suddenly jumped up with a spark in his eyes. "Yes, that must be it! Thank you, doctor Emilia! I would kiss you, but you know, military regulations, ha ha!" He spun her around as though they were ball-room dancing. "I'll have Hawk-eye send you a bouquet of flowers, we're cured thanks to your diagnosis!"

"Colonel-let go, Colonel!"

"Well lots to do, papers to sign, higher ups to chat up, emergencies to avoid, gotta go!" Colonel Mustard grinned like a maniac and rushed out the door.

"How was the meeting?" Leftenant Dove-eye asked Col. Mustard.  
"Oh, fairly uneventful. She means well, Dr. Emilia. And she dresses well, too." he replied with a smirk.

"The papers, sir. You've still got a few left before the day is done." Leftenant Dove-eye nearly slammed them onto his hand.

"Hey, careful, that's the other hand I use!" He dodged the papers and saw the icy expression on her face. "Oh, man, what'd I do this time?" he thought to himself.

"Colonel Mustard, sir-"she imagined herself pinning him to his desk, and forcing his hand to sign the papers one by one.

A knock on the door interrupted the tension. "Colonel! May I come in?" An elderly gentleman's voice rang from the other side of the door.

"Yes of course!" Mustard got up quickly and opened the door for Furher Grumman.

"Colonel, it's getting late and I wanted to speak with you before you punched out for the day," Fuhrer Grumman said.

"Oh? I'm all ears Fuhrer!" Col. Mustard straightened his back.

Grumman sighed. "You don't have to call me that in private, Mustang. Oh, Lieutenant Hawkeye, you're still here? I'd like to speak with Mustang in private if you don't mind, there's nothing wrong, mind you- just some minor affairs."

Lieutenant Hawkeye gave a salute and briskly walked out the door. Before she closed the door, she shot a glance at Mustang, as if to say, "We'll settle this later..."

Mustang looked back to the Fuhrer. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Fuhrer Grumman?" Mustang walked to his desk to pour Grumman a drink.

"Ah, Mustang, we go back a long way, don't we? I was your mentor in the academy, you were my most trustworthy confidante, we had a great rapport and we worked well together."

"Sir?" Mustang handed Grumman a cup of brewed tea.

"This business with the Elrics, it's all in the past. You paid a dear cost to restore a righteous peace back to the nation. You've fought hard for nearly two decades in the military."

"Twenty years should be only a fraction of the years I intend to give in service to Amestris," Mustang replied.

Grumman shook his head and set down his cup. "I'll get to the point then. There's never been a better time for you to pursue your own interests. This is peacetime and we intend to ramp down the militarization of the country over the next few years. Under Fuhrer Bradley, countless wars have been fought for the sake of spilling blood to create the philosopher's stone. I cannot allow the military to dictate the nation's affairs in this way any longer."

"But sir, without a strong military, our enemies will take advantage of our diminished strength."

"Our strength comes at a huge cost, you know. Everyone around us fears Amestris because we're strong. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about, Mustang."

"You've given enough sweat and blood to the military, son. Retire as a decorated veteran, while you're still young. Pursue your own interests, take up gardening, get acquainted with civilian life. Enjoy this precious peace."

"Being a soldier is all I've ever known, sir. Military service is a pledge of honor for life," Mustang stood firm.

"Then take a break, damn it! Mustang, your men are stretched to the limit right now. This peacetime is sapping into their morale, they've got nothing to do all day but hold the same drills and perform the same routines. The other day, Lieutenant Falman pranked Sergeant Fuery and turned the whole barracks into a laughingstock."

"I'll be sure to discipline the lot of them tomorrow!" Mustang saluted and hoped the conversation would end.

Grumman laughed. "After all this time, Why do you still want to be fuhrer so badly?" Grumman asked Mustang.

"My motivations have changed ever since the Elric brothers left," Mustang replied. "Now, I just want to stay by my friends."

"That's a terrible reason to continue like this, you know. We've mandated a rotation of official duties to lessen the burden on seasoned officers. This is also to prevent the entrenchment of factions and cliques within the military hierarchy."

"So what're you saying, sir?"

"Retire, you idiot, and go live your life! There's never been a more peaceful time in living memory. Marry for love, start a family, tend to your garden before it's too late. Alchemy cannot bring back lost time. I see such loyalty and admiration in your subordinates. You would be a popular man anywhere you went if only you freed yourself from service."

Mustang had no reply for his superior officer. His face fell and he sat down.

"I confess, Mustang, I had an ulterior motive for asking you to step down. I was hoping to play matchmaker with you and another woman in the military who seems to have a bit of an attraction towards you."

"I just don't know-this is all so sudden, sir. It's a lot to take in."

Grumman gritted his teeth. "You're killing me, colonel. This entire unit will be disbanded soon, I just thought you should know as a courtesy before that happens."

Mustang felt the room spinning around him, he could hardly see straight. Discharged? But where would he go?! the military is all he knows!

"Take this number, Mustang. Call it, get yourself a date and see where it leads!"  
Grumman stuffed a small piece of paper in between Mustang's hands, which were buried beneath his face. "And for god's sake man, cheer up! Peace is a precious commodity, enjoy it while it lasts!" And with that, old Fuhrer Grumman walked out the door.


	2. Dr Emilia, State Psychiatrist

A knock on the door interrupted Dr. Emilia's solitude. She had been contemplating what to do about Mustang's strange behavior as of late. The boucquet of roses he'd sent her lay next to her fireplace. She wanted to burn that damn bundle of mockery.

The previous day, Fuhrer Grumman had informed her that he had been mulling whether to discharge Mustang's entire unit from the military on account of its lack of discipline. "Those idiots are setting a terrible example for other units to follow, with their non-stop pranks and general rowdiness," Grumman complained to her. "Do you know what he ordered them to call him? Colonel Mustard, ha! I may be forced to disband them for the sanity of the remaining troops."

"But sir, they're all war heroes, every single one of them. Surely a discharge is too drastic an action? Perhaps we might try a less direct approach to settling them down?"

"War heroes in peace time are insufferable. Mustang is no different." Grumman stroked his Mustache. "I'll make my decision soon."

There was another knock and Dr. Emilia turned her thoughts away from yesterday's conversation. "Yes? Do come in, the door is unlocked."

A pale young woman approached from the doorway. Her yellow hair was tied up into a neat bun. Dr. Emilia had always liked this woman's stern, severe eyes. An attractive quality, she noted to herself in secret.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?" Dr. Emilia asked the officer.

"Dr. Emilia , I came to apologize for our unit's neglect in addressing the issues of low morale and discipline." Hawkeye bowed slightly and stood by the doorway.

"Oh? You needn't speak on anybody's behalf. After all, you've simply followed your orders to perfection." Dr. Emilia offered Hawkeye an ironic smile.

Hawkeye's eyebrow twitched slightly. "Did I tempt her to bad-mouth the colonel? I'll have to try harder," Dr. Emilia thought with relish.

"Come, then. Sit. Unless you have other business to attend to?" The good doctor gestured to a cozy armchair.

Hawkeye hesitated, but she relented and sat down. "Is Colonel Mustang in danger of losing his position in the military?" Hawkeye asked Dr. Emilia.

"Oh? Now what makes you say that? He's a decorated veteran of two major conflicts, the hero of the state, the flame-"

"He had his head in his hands the entire morning today, ma'am. I would have asked why but he seemed to be on the verge of tears."

This put a smile on Dr. Emilia's face. "Does he ever confide in you, lieutenant? Whenever he comes here, he makes crude jokes and forces me to dance with him. It's all a great big farce to him, apparently."

Hawkeye smirked. "The Colonel has peculiar ways of expressing himself, I've found."

"Peculiar, eh? Yet Peculiarity is not a desirable trait in the eyes of the state military. If Mustang continues to be peculiar, as you say, he will be expelled from the military. You will find yourself assigned to another superior officer, one who is worthy of your qualities."

"The truth is, my job is to service the industrial machine that comprises the military- all the personnel are gears in a big machine, and each gear does its job. Sometimes a component in the machine undergoes severe stress and breaks. My job is to evaluate whether the break is severe enough to warrant a replacement."

"Given what we know of his service history, Colonel Mustang has had his share of trauma and stress, wouldn't you agree?" Dr. Emilia chewed on the tip of her eye glasses.

Hawkeye furrowed her brow. "The colonel is the same soldier he's always been. And I came here to ask that you give him one more chance to prove himself."

"Hmph. Well, to tell you the truth if this charade goes on further, Fuhrer Grumman will expell the entire unit: yourself included. Imagine hearing the muffled sounds of a subordinate officer chastising her superior officer on a daily basis coming from Mustang's office! And that same superior officer making a mockery of all the statutes of the military! The rumors are unseemly to say the least, lieutenant."

"I-" Hawkeye reddened.

"Can I ask you a personal question, lieutenant? Why did you join the military? You were a special case, were you not?"

"Most women in the military are generally accepted into service under exceptional circumstances. As for myself, I come from a military family."

"Well, go on..."

"I used to have a strong sense of purpose, but now I fear I've waivered."

"Because of Colonel Mustang?"

"Yes, strangely enough. He has lost his sense of purpose, and I fear I may not be doing much good by protecting him."

"Are you waiting for him? for the man he used to be?"

"No. He's lost his old ambition to become the Fuhrer entirely."

"But you're still by his side. What could you be waiting for?"

Hawkeye could not say. She bowed and thanked Dr. Emilia for her time. Dr. Emilia sighed and reclined back into her chair. "Maybe I should try my hand at seducing her, if Mustang won't," she thought to herself.

"Where'd you run off to, lieutenant?" Mustang yawned from behind his desk.

"An errand, merely." Hawkeye replied.

"Pfft. Did Dr. Emilia ask you to spy on me?" Mustang sat up straight and looked at her with exasperation.

Hawkeye paused to form an appropriate response. "Now that you mention it, colonel, you did forget to water the flowers today." She walked to the windowsill and poured some water on the plants. "Did you finish with all the paperwork?"

Mustang scratched his head. "Decisions, decisions. Old Fuhrer Grumman should sign all these papers, he could overrule any of my decisons anyway."

"But it falls under your jurisdiction unless the Fuhrer has a compelling reason to interfere," Hawkeye explained matter-of-factly as she checked the rose petals. "We've had this discussion many times."

"Ah, lieutenant, you're right as always. It just so happens that I did finish with the paperwork," Mustang propped his feet up on the desk. "There's nothing like a stack of zoning complaint letters to put you in the mood for womanizing."

He fingered the slip of paper Grumman had given him. A telephone number was written on it with a name: "Anne".

"Do you know anybody by the name of Anne in active service, Hawkeye?"

"No, sir. Would you like me to make an inquiry?"

Mustang laughed. "You're one in a million, I hope you know that, lieutenant. No thank you, I'll make the date myself."

He dialed the number and chatted for a few minutes with a high-pitched voice about opera. A few moments later, Mustang put on his coat and fedora. He lingered by the doorway before leaving.

"Ah, lieutenant, do you have a moment?"

"Yes, colonel?"

"Will you be free tonight?"

"I'll be on call as usual."

"Come with me to see the opera."

"Sir? I'm not able."

Mustang scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. "Please, as a favor? I need a ride back in case the date blows up in my face. Call it an emergency and you're all set to go!"


	3. Night at the Opera

Despite the night weather, the opera venue glittered and radiated luxury, its marble columns draped with opulent satin curtains and its entrance guided by a red carpet. A billboard advertised a famed group of tenors performing there that night.

Hawkeye was driving, as usual. She parked the car neatly by the curb as Mustang got out with a look of slight weariness. He adjusted the brim of his hat to hide his face, and his eyepatch in particular.

The lieutenant hadn't dressed for the occasion at all, opting to put on a simple shirt and trousers. As she escorted Colonel Mustang to the entrance, she saw the girl in question: a stunning brunette who was attracting the eyes of all the gentlemen around her.

"Anne, I presume?" Mustang took the girl's hand and pretended to kiss it. The small crowd of middle-aged men dispersed in a hurry as their dates gave them angry looks.

"My name is Colonel Mustard. I am honored you could join me for an evening."

Hawkeye cringed, but didn't bother to correct the colonel's blunder. Instead, her thoughts dwelled on ending the night in her bed, with Black Hayate by her side.

Anne blinked and smiled nervously. "Shall we?"" Colonel Mustard led her into the chambers of the opera house.

She gasped. "You were able to get balcony seats on such short notice?"

"Let's just say I know some important people, and they owe me a favor or two," Mustang winked.

They sat down into cozy, cushioned seats as Anne took out a pair of spectacles for viewing the stage. "So miss Anne, tell me, are you at all related to Captain Hanover of the second unit?"

"Why, yes, I'm his younger sister! However did you find out? It's a closely kept secret," her high, shrill voice grated on Hawkeye's nerves.

"Well, you see, old Fuhrer Grumman is quite generous with his time, and..." Mustang's voice drifted out of Hawkeye's hearing. She blocked out their small talk and listened as the curtains drew back and the tenors entered the stage to thunderous applause.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a concert in her free time, although it wasn't her first time, either. Hawkeye sighed and let the music carry her off to sleep.

When she opened her eyes, Anne was standing and applauding loudly as Mustang rose to join her. "Let's get out of here," he whispered to Hawkeye from the corner of his mouth.

"So, what did you think of the opera?" Mustang mustered some cheer in his voice. "Such marvelous, extravagant costumes! The tenors were simplly sublime. What a fine way to spend the evening, I must thank you for suggesting the venue, Colonel," Anne's eyes were gleaming with admiration.

"I just have one question, colonel, why did you bring your subordinate?" Anne latched onto Mustang's arm like a schoolgirl.

"Hawkeye? Oh, she's here to take notes. You know, for an official report." Mustang yawned. It was possibly the worst thing he could have done at that moment.

Anne let go of his arm. Her face fell and tears welled up in her eyes. "Wha-are you mocking me?! What kind of gentleman are you?"

"Have I offended you, my lady? My apologies, it's been a long day. Please, allow me to escort you back home."

Anne's cheeks flushed bright red. "What is she, your chaperone? Why would you need to make an official report about a date?"

"Eh? well, the way politics works in the military is, the more reports you make, the more reliable you seem. So every day Hawkeye compiles a report to bolster my reputation," Mustang shrugged.

Anne grabbed a drink from another patron's hand and flung it at Mustang's face. It splashed onto his hair and dripped from his chin.

"Wait, Anna, at least let me give you a ride back!" Mustang hurried after her.

"I'll find a cab, just leave me alone!" She ran off.

Hawkeye caught up to the colonel, who was sitting by the curb, and wiped his face off with her handkerchief. "Do all your dates run away from you like this?" She asked in a deadpan tone.

"Just the ones who can't take a joke," Mustang replied impishly.

"Sir? Is the emergency over? Can I return to my post?"

Mustang sighed. "What'd you think of the opera, Hawkeye?"

"A tasteless and outdated showing of bravado tenors, sir."

"Fair enough. I'll drive us back," Mustang offered.

The next day, Grumman showed up to Mustang's office chuckling: "Did I hear that right? You brought another woman to your date?"

"Sometimes I think you enjoy the pain." Grumman shook his head. "She was crestfallen to hear that you didn't even remember her name."

"I'll send her a boucquet of roses for her trouble," Mustang replied with a smirk.

"your famous apology roses are cropping up everywhere. You must spend half your office budget on damn roses. Why didn't I get any roses, Mustang?"

"you?! Fuhrer, if I piss you off, roses wouldn't save me. If you'd like to know where to find them, Captain Hook -Uh, I mean Captain Havok- is dating a grocer who picks them for me."

"You know, I've always thought that women mellowed you out. Turns out that is indeed the case, but you've already got a woman."

Mustang furrowed his brow. "No, you can't mean Hawkeye. She's a fellow soldier."

"Well why not? you two make a good couple."

"why not, Fuhrer? It's against military regulations, that's why not!"

Grumman chortled loudly. "Since when have you given a damn about regulations? You wouldn't last a minute without her. Although I don't get why she sticks around: you don't do much for her, except for giving her a constant mess to clean up."

"Well that's subordinate life for ya," Mustang chuckled nervously. "I remember doing the same back when I served under you."

"That's enough insubordination for one day, Mustang. Keep that retirement date in mind: you may need to plan for civilian life at the rate that you're screwing up."

"Fuhrer, was there something else requiring my attention?" Mustang saluted Grumman.

"Heh, well seeing as how we're getting down to business, I thought I'd mention that the date for your Alchemist re-certification exam is coming up soon. I've spoken with Dr. Emilia and she feels that a psychiatric evaluation is necessary in addition to the routine alchemic prowess evaluation."

"Sir?" Mustang dropped his salute and his jaw.

"Every state alchemist has to renew certifications yearly, as I recall," Grumman smirked smugly.

"But why did you allow Dr. Emilia-"

"A week, Mustang! You have a week to prepare," Grumman waved and walked off briskly.

For the second time in a week, Mustang buried his head in his hands.

A couple floors down from the colonel's office, as usual Mustang's unit was hard at work deciding how best to whittle the time away. Sergeant Fuery was attending to his duties when suddenly, to dispel the monotony, he felt an urge to speak his mind to his fellow soldier. "Captain Havok, did Colonel Mustang ask you to look for books on psychiatry? He did? Why do you think he asked?"

Captain Havok didn't bat an eye. "Oh, you haven't heard? Colonel Mustard is losing his mind. He's only keeping up appearances by showing up to sign papers every day."

"Losing his mind? Don't spread rumors like that, I might just believe in them. What makes you say that?" Fuery scratched his head.

"Well, for one, we haven't been promoted since the events of Shamballa. Why do you think that is?" Havok asked.

"The answer, Fuery, is that the higher-ups in the military see Colonel Mustard as a sore thumb who can't be controlled."

"So his unit is being punished by being assigned the most mundane work in the military: paper pushing."

"Ha! That's the worst conspiracy theory I've heard from you yet, Havok," Fuery rebutted. "And we've had other duties besides paperwork, like hall monitoring and washroom maintenance. Colonel Mustang is the same as he's always been."

"Then why does he order us to call him Colonel Mustard?" Havok reclined on his chair.

"He's just..huh, that is pretty weird."

"And not to mention all the terrible shifts we've had to pull. He must've pissed off someone important," Havok replied.

"Well everyone's talking about his upcoming certification exam. I've heard whispers that it's going to be an abnormally hard exam."

"Whatever happens, that exam is going to be the most entertaining event of this year," Havok shrugged. "Maybe our colonel will triumph, maybe he'll fail spectacularly. He'll go out with a bang, I'm sure." Havok went back to reading his magazine of scantily clad women, concealed between the covers of a dictionary.

"Aren't you tired of reading that dictionary?" Fuery asked him.

"I'm learning too much to stop," Havok smiled from the corner of his mouth.

Lieutenant Hawkeye stretched her arms before rummaging through her pockets for her keys. She had been working a heavy shift and her muscles ached.

"Lieutenant, wait!"

She recognized the voice immediately and thought to hurry into her room. She decided to hear him out as his footsteps approached.

"Lieutenant, where have you been the past few days?!" Mustang huffed and puffed at her.

"Oh, I've been volunteering in my spare time. And I've been going to Dr. Emilia's afternoon sessions. She hosts roundtable sessions for soldiers every other day."

"Wha-how could you leave me all alone with office work? And you've been going to that witch doctor's office?!"

"Why not? Dr. Emilia's office is a valuable resource for relieving personal burdens."

"But you're cavorting with the enemy, Hawkeye!"

"Excuse me colonel, but those are my personal affairs."

Mustang got down to his knees. "Lieutenant, I'm asking you for a big favor here. Help me pass the certification exam!"

"Sir? You've never had any trouble at all in the previous years."

"Dr. Emilia is insisting that I take a psych evaluation. I just know she'll cook something up to fail me."

"She'll do no such thing," Hawkeye lied with a smile. She noted with surprise that she enjoyed seeing the colonel in desperate straits.

"Lieutenant, you're the calmest person I know. You can earn Dr. Emilia's trust and get some inside information on what she has planned for me," Mustang proposed.

"And break a dozen military regulations while I'm at it," Hawkeye narrowed her stern eyes. "Speaking of which, male officers are not allowed in female quarters."

"Lieutenant, I came to you because I trust you above anyone else in the military!" Mustang pleaded with puppy eyes.

Hawkeye laughed. "Colonel Mustard, you remind me of Black Hayate. Mmm I'll have to think about it, Roy," She turned her back on him and opened the door. "Come back in a day or two and I'll have my decision."

Mustang gasped. "The exam is in five days, lieutenant! Do you know what happens to colonels who get demoted?"

Hawkeye's smile widened. "No, what happens?"

"They're given silly names and forever lose the respect of their fellow soldiers," Mustang almost yelled out.

"Sounds like you're pretty desperate," Hawkeye raised an eyebrow.

"What will it take, Hawkeye?! I thought we were...we were..." He was close to the verge of tears.

"What, colonel? What are we?"

"Confidantes," Mustang seemed shocked to describe her in this way.

Hawkeye blinked and shrugged. "Well, another day awaits, Colonel. I've got some light reading to do," She gently nudged Mustang out of the way and closed the door.


	4. The Recertification Exam

The next day, Mustang buried his face in psychiatry books and avoided all of his paperwork.

"Shouldn't you be pushing the colonel to get his work done?" Staff Sergeant Falman asked Hawkeye, who had propped her legs up on Mustang's desk to read a detective novel.

"What is he, a child who needs his mother to cuss him out all the time?" Hawkeye replied.

"But you've always-" Falman stopped talking when Hawkeye gave him the evil eye. "Well what do ya know, duty calls!" He chuckled nervously as he went out the door in a hurry.

"Hawkeye, it says in this book that a person's outward emotions are only a small part of his overal state of feelings," Mustang said with genuine surprise in his voice. "That's just swell. To think that all this time, the distain I felt for Dr. Emilia was only the tip of the iceberg!"

Hawkeye stiffened her lip. "Keep reading, colonel. You've got plenty of time."

"And here's an interesting theory: if you bottle up your desires for too long without fulfilling them, you'll lash out by annoying people without understanding why. It's called passive aggression."

Hawkeye put down her book. "Do you really want to pass the recertification exam?"

"More than anything, Lieutenant!" Mustang picked up a volume entitled, "The Discontents of Civilization."

"Then confide in me," Hawkeye put a hand on his book.

"Eh?" Mustang was flustered by the Lieutenant's advance.

"Tell me what you really think of the military. Tell me what happened to the man who killed Fuhrer Bradley, and why he's spending his days in self-imposed exile in this office," Hawkeye demanded.

"Hawkeye, are you feeling ok?" Mustang laughed.

She let out a note of exasperation. "Drop the act, colonel Mustard. I deserve to know why you turned your back on the military!" Hawkeye raised her voice.

"If you won't say anything to Dr. Emilia, fine. You've got nobody else to talk to, all of your friends have left or passed away. If I am your confidante, then speak your mind," Hawkeye argued.

"Huh. You're right-Hey wait, there's Major Armstrong! Hah! I can also go to Major Armstrong!" Mustang stuck his tongue out at her.

Hawkeye blinked and sighed. "Please, colonel. You're not acting like your own age."

"Pffftttt," Mustang blew a raspberry at her.

She slammed her hands on his desk: "Colonel, I'm reluctant to take this step, but if you won't focus on your duty, then I'm going to have to go to Dr. Emilia and report on your erratic behavior!"

"nya nya I'm gonna havta go ta Dr. E-mole-ia," Mustang mocked her voice.

"Hey-wait, Lieutenant, where are you going?!" Mustang called after Hawkeye. "Hey-I order you to stand down, lieutenant!" He stifled his own laughter as he sat back down. "Ahh, what the hell am I going to do?" He flipped through the thick tome of psychiatry and grew bored. "Maybe I'll actually go pay Armstrong a visit. God, I miss you, Hughes. I'd give anything to get a drink with you again." His head slumped onto the desk, spilling ink all over his face and paperwork.

"Yes? Come in. The door is unlocked," A deep and low yet feminine voice drifted from the crevices of the doorway. Hawkeye furrowed her brow and opened the door to Dr. Emilia's office.

"Ah, my dear Riza. It is a pleasure to see you again," Dr. Emilia turned from her chair to greet her.

"How is everything in your unit? I trust the Colonel is attending to his work as usual," Dr. Emilia bit the tip of her glasses seductively.

"Actually, I've come to you for some advice regarding the Colonel's erratic behavior as of late. I'm sure you've noticed that he seems even more distanced from his work than usual," Hawkeye told her.

"So it seems. Tell me, lieutenant. Does he have a history of high blood pressure?"

"Not that I know of."

"How are his energy levels of late? Any excessive showings of irritability?"

"No, he's not the one getting annoyed," Hawkeye chuckled. "He's driving me crazy, actually."

"So I see. And does he toss and turn in bed during the night?"

"No, I don't think so-" Hawkeye gave the doctor a strange look. "And I wouldn't know anything about that, doctor."

"Well it would be been helpful to know. Sleep patterns are a factor in measuring a person's stress levels, as are blood pressure and signs of irritability," Dr. Emilia shrugged.

"He's rather tired these days at work. But then again, he's been given paperwork duty for a while now. It would drain anybody's enthusiasm and energy," Hawkeye admitted.

"He has only four days left before his recertification exam. And yet he's wasting his time and panicking whenever he thinks I'm not watching. I'm not sure there's anything left I can do to bolster his chances of passing the exam," Hawkeye continued.

"Tsk, Tsk. I'm afraid the colonel may have to resign himself to a demotion if it keeps up," Dr. Emilia purred. "Tell me lieutenant: how long have you been mopping up Mustang's messes?"

She could sense Hawkeye's hesitation. Yet the stoic lieutenant was yielding to her advances: her darting eyes gave it away.

"We've known each other for close to fifteen years, ma'am. We were recruits at the military academy. He was two years ahead of me."

"Fifteen years. A lot can change in so much time, you know," she offered Hawkeye a steaming mug of coffee.

"Be honest, lieutenant. How much of his work does colonel Mustang delegate to his subordinates? To you, in particular?"

Hawkeye laughed. "A fair share, we'll leave it at that."

Dr. Emilia put a hand on Hawkeye's knee. "I want you to know that whatever happens to Colonel Mustard in his exam, you have my deepest sympathies for putting up with such a man for so long."

"And to think he had such drive and ambition to reform the military! I don't know how much longer I can watch him wasting himself away. It frustrates me to no end."

"You know, lieutenant, it's important to keep our minds open to the possibilities," Dr. Emilia leaned close to Hawkeye's face.

"You may soon face the prospect of serving under another superior officer, or..." Her fingers walked step by step up the hem of Hawkeye's blue uniform trousers.

Hawkeye tilted her head quizzically. This was something new to her: since the time she was a raw recruit, she'd attracted plenty of attention from boorish men and from confident, straightforward men alike; but never from a woman, certainly not a mature, sultry woman like Dr. Emilia, eminent psychiatrist of the state. She blushed a crimson red up to her ears.

"Or...you could climb the ranks yourself, and replace Mustang in his post," Dr. Emilia suggested hypnotically.

"Would you like to hear a secret? I, too, have ambition: I yearn to be the first female leader of Amestris...I would need a loyal subordinate like you to help me along the way," She leaned forward and massaged Hawkeye's shoulders.

"Let me soothe that ache, lieutenant. Shhh-" She put a finger on Hawkeye's lips. "Just listen."

"How would you like for us to be partners in this grand endeavor?" Dr. Emilia drew a tiny circle on the coffee mug Hawkeye had set down by the table. She put her hands together: there was a flash of light and the dark coffee turned clear as water.

Hawkeye let out a sharp intake of breath. "Dr. Emilia, you're an alchemist?!"

"Astute as always, lieutenant. I'm an aspiring State Alchemist, in fact. My specialty is in liquid alchemy," Dr. Emilia took a sip from the mug.

"Something about the flow of water is soothing on a primordial level for the mind, don't you think?" She leaned close to Hawkeye's neck and gave her a kiss. "When I defeat Roy, I'll become a certified state alchemist with access to funding and a clear path to promotion in the military."

Hawkeye tried to move, but she couldn't. Was the fear she felt, the fear of another woman's intimate touch? Or the fear that she might enjoy it? She was blushing profusely, and the doctor noticed.

"First time? I'll be gentle," Dr. Emilia's fingers glided toward her uniform buttons. She began to unfasten them.

Hawkeye snapped out of her daze. "Doctor,"

"Everything stays in this room, Riza- you can say whatever pleases you in here. No need to hold yourself back."

"Doctor, please. This-this is a bit much for me to process. you'll have to excuse me," She gently nudged her out of the way and got up. "I appreciate your taking the time to hear me out." Hawkeye headed toward the door.

"Perhaps that was a bit rushed. Just think about my offer, won't you dear?" Dr. Emilia blew a kiss at her.

"Oh? I'll keep it in mind, my good doctor." Hawkeye whispered to herself.

"Hey Lieutenant! You're back with a spring in your step if I'm not mistaken?" Mustang was juggling a pen on the tip of his nose.

Hawkeye blinked. She did seem more cheerful than usual, come to think of it. "How long have I been gone? the office is a mess!" She thought as she glanced around.

"Sir? Have you looked at your face in the mirror lately?"

"What's that? No, why do you ask?"

"It's completely black. Possibly ink from the black puddle on your desk."

"Oh, this, haha! Minor mishap. I'll just borrow sergeant Fuery's desk in the meantime."

"I don't think he would appreciate that, sir."

"I was just joking around, I've got no need for a desk anyway." Mustang propped up his legs and reclined back in his chair.

"So what did Dr. Emilia say?" He mumbled absent-mindedly.

"That's between myself and Dr. Emilia," Hawkeye stonewalled him. "If you only knew..." she thought to herself with satisfaction.

"How about this...I tell you whatever you wanna know, and in exchange you'll tell me what she told you?" Mustang proposed to Hawkeye.

"Anything? You'll tell me anything I ask?" Hawkeye took out her handkerchief and dabbed at the colonel's face. "It's no good, you'll have to rinse the ink out in the restroom sink."

"Anything. I'm an open book, lieutenant."

"Alright. If I'm satisfied with your answers, I'll tell you what Dr. Emilia said to me," Hawkeye folded her arms over her chest.

Mustang cocked his thumb and index finger at her as though he were aiming a pistol. "Fire away, lieutenant."

"Why do you want to leave the military?"

"Hey, that's a loaded question. I'm trying to do the best I can, lieutenant."

"Then why are you acting out like a spoiled child who's throwing a tantrum? You're bound to be demoted soon," Hawkeye said.

"I can't help it if the drudgery of paperwork duty starts to weigh me down. It doesn't mean I've lost my resolve."

"Colonel, don't tell me you're still pursuing the position of Fuhrer?"

"I haven't yet made up my mind, lieutenant. That's the truth."

"Then what's stopping you from making a decision?"

Mustang looked into her eyes for a brief moment. "My feelings toward the military have never been straightforward. Yours neither, if I recall. It's why we worked so well together, lieutenant."

"Grumman is doing a fine job as Fuhrer. But what should happen to the country if he were replaced, or a coup'de tat occurred? I'm not sure that right now is the right time for me to leave the affairs of peace keeping to raw recruits."

"On the other hand, being Fuhrer during peace time is a strange job. It's a delicate balancing act between recruiting new soldiers and diminishing the size of the army."

Mustang shrugged. "Grumman is the right reformer. He's handling the de-militarization of Amestris quite well in my opinion. I'm kinda jealous that he's doing the things I wanted to do when I was a young lad in training."

"But we've fought so many wars in the past decade that I can still hardly believe this is a peace that will last. I'm staying because I believe I can be of some use in the next war to come."

"Is that it? You feel an obligation to stay in case war breaks out again?"

"Hmm." Mustang nodded vaguely.

"What does that mean?" Hawkeye asked with frustration in her voice.

"Are you sure you wanna know why?" Mustang asked her.

"That's what I'm here for, colonel."

"I can't forget about the Rockbells. About Hughes. All those Ishbalans I murdered as a State Alchemist," he touched the leather fabric of his eyepatch.

"I want to atone for my actions somehow. The military has become the sin which is my burden to bear," Mustang said in a low voice.

"Yet even as I try to grapple with its necessity to the country, the military has become my home. I know nothing else."

Mustang sighed and stood up to yawn. "So it's a complicated question, lieutenant, I hope that covered everything."

"Will you make up your mind to stay or leave soon?" Hawkeye asked.

"The decision is not up to me, lieutenant. My recertification exam will determine that."

"Then I'll help you make up your mind, sir."

"I'm all ears, Hawkeye."

"Your examiner, Dr. Emilia-is an aspiring State Alchemist."

"What?!" Mustang's jaw dropped. "How-she-"

"She specializes in liquid alchemy, so she's a natural deterrent to your ignition alchemy."

Mustang covered his face with his hands. "Oh, god! How could this get any worse?! That hag is literally gunning for my hide! She's going to skin me alive, isn't she?! I thought she was only going to quiz me about my mental health!"

"Sir, calm down. There's nothing to get upset-"

Mustang sobbed into his hands. "Who's going to take me seriously after she makes a mockery of my skills? Word travels quickly in this place!"

"Oh for god's sake, Colonel, people are starting to wonder about you already-"

"No, this can't be- how could Grumman-sensei agree to this? He knows I haven't used flame alchemy ever since those Elric brothers left. Woe unto me!" Mustang clawed at his face.

"Hah! I know. I'll resign before the exam. That'll show Grumman and Dr. Emilia both. I refuse to play their game."

"Roy, you can't do that," Hawkeye raised her voice.

"That's Colonel Roy to you, Lieutenant. And why not? I'm a war hero, there's no shame in quitting now."

"Because I won't allow you to back down, sir. This is a fight you have to win." Hawkeye stared down at the colonel.

"Wha-what kind of quixotic nightmare have I entered? There's just no escape!" Mustang cradled his head in between his hands.

"You can decide whether to quit the military after you've defeated Dr. Emilia. She aspires to become Fuhrer and is trying to use you as a stepping stone."

"Oh. so that's how it can get worse."

"You have to stop her if you want to preserve Grumman's rule over the state military."

"Dammit, there's Armstrong, too. He-"

"She wanted me to work under her after she defeated you, just so you know."

"But you said no?"

"I said I'd think it over." Hawkeye grinned maliciously.

"Study hard, Colonel." The lieutenant playfully flicked some ink onto Roy's plain white gloves.


	5. Flame Vs Liquid

Lieutenant Hawkeye adjusted the collar of Colonel Mustang's military uniform. She lightly swept his jacket and smoothed out the wrinkles.

"Nervous, lieutenant?" Mustang offered her a grin.

"Sir, I'm not the one who should be nervous. You're facing an eminent psychiatrist who happens to know alchemy. She'll attack your weak points like nobody else can."

Mustang shrugged as he usually shrugged when Hawkeye tried to speak sense to him. "If it's my time, it's my time."

Hawkeye couldn't bear to stay mad at Mustang on the eve of his final battle. As she saluted him, she bit her lower lip and met his gaze as he sauntered off to meet his maker. "An honorable oaf," she thought to herself with a feeling resembling affection.

The day of reckoning had come at last: Flame vs. Liquid, Mustang vs. Emilia!

The whole military showed up at the battle grounds to watch the spectacle: anybody who had a small sliver of free time had gathered here to witness the first appearance of the Flame Alchemist since the Shamballa incident.

There were quiet whispers all across the audience as the time drew near.

"Do you think Roy still has it in him?"

"Who do you think his opponent is?"

"Why did he give my girlfriend a boucquet of roses last week?"

The enlisted men grumbled and gossiped while the preparations were underway for an alchemic contest. Major Armstrong took it upon himself to begin the introduction of the contestants. He walked to the center of the marble contesting grounds and took the megaphone in his hands:

"Comrades! The momentous occasion, which we all knew must come someday, has arrived. The Flame Alchemist has put on his gloves once again in order to face the Liquid Alchemist of Ishballa, the eminient psychiatrist of Amestris, Dr. Emilia Zol!"

Armstrong flexed his arms and gritted his teeth in a sheer display of bravado and machoism.

"Let this contest bring out the fire of their spirits, men! Witness the fury of destruction and creation!"

The soldiers began to show their impatience. "What the hell is he talking about?! We just came here to see Roy get his ass handed to him!"

"And now, without further ado, approaching from the East, Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist!" Roy lifted the curtains surrounding the eastern gate and walked onto the white marble of the contesting grounds.

The crowd cheered, booed and jeered simultaneously. "Love me or hate me, make up your minds," Mustang shouted to the crowd as he shook hands with Major Armstrong

People began throwing things at him. Tomatoes, then rocks, then chairs. Mustang dodged them all nimbly.

From the crowd of onlookers, Captain Havok watched the colonel and shook his head. "There it is, the man has finally lost his mind."

"And from the West, comes a prodigy and polymath, a renaissance woman of the ancient state of Ishballa. Emilia Zol, the Liquid Alchemist!" Armstrong announced as Dr. Emilia parted the curtains surrounding the western gate to the contest grounds.

Mustang glanced at her: she was dressed not for combat, but for an interview, it seemed. She was wearing her usual formal dress and her hair had been neatly combed into a bun.

Grumman walked onto the center stage, huffing and puffing: "Armstrong, let's get on with the show, already. We've got work to do after this, you know!"

Major Armstrong shed manly tears and raised his arm in salute. "Bless you, Colonel Mustang. My dear comrade, give your opponent everything you've got!" He clasped Mustang on the shoulders and walked away.

Grumman announced the terms of the contest using the megaphone: "As this battle shall determine the rise and fall of two noteable figures in the military, we shall have three contests to judge the winner."

"The first contest is a warm-up of sorts. Who can produce the greatest effect given the least amount of starting reaction materials?"

"Second, we shall ask the two contestants to demonstrate their reflexes in a single-round elimination match.

"And last, but not least, we come to the face-off round. Who shall reign supreme in this no-holds-barred, head-to-head struggle?"

"A panel of three judges shall determine the final victor. Do we have the first round ready to go? We do? Then let's get started!"

Grumman rung the giant bell near the entrance to the contest grounds. Mustang had to cover his ears to shield them from the loud ring that swept through the stadium. He gritted his teeth and glanced at Dr. Emilia. On the table in front of them were a glass of water and a single match.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with a glass of water?" Mustang scratched his head.

Dr. Emilia laughed. "Silly Roy, just watch and learn." She dipped a finger into the water and drew a simple, elegant circle on the glass. All of a sudden, the entire arena seemed to be engulfed in a thick haze of mist.

The three judges clapped. The first judge raised a giant board with an '8' written on it. Then another gave Dr. Emilia a '9', the last an '8.5'.

Grumman whistled. "Damn, Roy. That's tough to beat. What kinda arcane sorcery do you have to counter that?"

Mustang gritted his teeth again. "Oh, something much better than transmuting water into fog." He snapped his fingers. "Poof!" Nothing. Roy snapped his fingers again. A pathetic puff of smoke emanated from his ignition gloves.

"Arraggh!" Mustang was foaming at the mouth. "That witch's mist dampened my ignition gloves!"

Grumman laughed much louder than he should have. "Ahha! Ha! Oh, Roy, we'll give you another shot. Make it count!"

Mustang panicked. "Am I going to have to draw an actual transmutation circle? I haven't done that since I studied to pass my first state exam!"

"No, I'm overthinking it." Mustang took the match and struck it against the cloth of his ignition glove. The tip of the match sprang to life as fire.

"Are we supposed to clap now?" Someone from the audience asked.

"No, you buffoon! That's not alchemy!" Was the reply from the same audience.

"Just watch," Mustang said as he clapped his hands together. The flame from the match exploded suddenly into a fireball in front of Roy's face. "Whoa!" He shielded his face from the blast.

The flash of light had vaporized the mist that Dr. Emilia had created. Roy smirked smugly at his handiwork, even as he felt a tingling sensation on his forehead.

"Colonel, your eyebrows-"

"What's that, Fuhrer?"

"Roy, your eyebrows are on fire!"

"Ye-ouch!" He slapped his face with the gloves to put the fire out.

The judges clapped dutifully. They raised a '7', 'a 7.5' and a '6'. "What?! That's not fair!" Roy gestured at Dr. Emilia. "Why, she tried to sabotage me and I get punished for it?!"

"Now, now-there's nothing like sulking to make a sore loser. There are still two rounds left to go," Fuhrer Grumman said.

"On to round two: the reflex lightning round. On the count of ten: ten-nine-eight-three-two-one- GO!" Grumman ran away from the stage as quickly as he could.

Dr. Emilia quickly touched the ground with her hands and drew a transmutation circle with blinding speed. The marble floor glowed briefly and Mustang tilted on his feet as the ground seemed to liquify beneath his boots.

"Are you getting too old for this, colonel?" Dr. Emilia taunted.

"Not a chance, Doctor!" He snapped his fingers and an explosion rocked the air beside her, shaking her own footing.

Down in the audience stands, Havok was taking bets for the outcome of the match. "C'mon, I got 3-to-1 odds that Dr. Emilia's gonna wipe the floor with Colonel Mustang. You wanna go in on this, Fuery?"

"Betting against the Colonel? Ahh but I don't wanna lose my hard-earned money, either." Fuery rubbed the back of his head in contemplation. "It's too much, you decide, Captain. Here."

"Another one for the good doctor, then!" Havok grinned as he took Fuery's money and put it in his bag.

"Lieutenant, it's good to see ya outside for a change. How about it? Wanna go in on this sweet pot?" Havok asked Hawkeye, who was standing nearby.

"Hurry now, before the fight's over..." Havok urged her.

She thought about repeating the military regulations on gambling, but decided against it. "You know I always bet on underdogs, Havok." She tossed him a wad of bills. "Put it on Colonel Mustard."

Havok shook his head. "Oh, lieutenant-I thought you were a professional. Tsk, tsk." He put her money in the bag.

The fight raged on: Dr. Emilia's liquifying alchemy against Roy Mustang's flame attacks. Dr. Emilia had gained an upper hand by attacking first, but Roy gained back lost ground by converting the liquified marble into molten rock with his flame attacks.

"That's enough! The round is a draw!" Grumman declared from the judges' table.

Mustang and Dr. Emilia were face-to-face at each other's throats when they stopped and faced Grumman. They bowed deeply. Seeing an opening, Mustang tripped Dr. Emilia, who fell flat on her face. "Wha-such rude tactics, Colonel! Are we soldiers or beasts?" She shouted as she stood back up.

Mustang shrugged. "All's fair in love, isn't that the saying?"

The judges mumbled to one another. "We declare this round to be a draw, no scores will be assigned."

"That's fine by me. When's the final round?" Mustang asked.

"Now I want you both to make eye contact and shake hands before we begin this next round," Grumman announced from the megaphone. "Approach calmly...that's it...now extend your hands!"

Mustang extended a hand to Dr. Emilia, who replied in kind. They shook hands amicably. But Dr. Emilia did not let go.

"This is where we part, Colonel Mustang," Dr. Emilia gave Roy a wistful look. "Shame that you climbed so high. The fall will be quick and painless, I assure you."

"NOW FIIIIGGGHHHHTTT!" Grumman shouted at the top of his lungs, startling Mustang and Dr. Emilia both.

Dr. Emilia held onto Mustang's hands stubbornly, so he slipped his hands out of his ignition gloves. She grasped the soft gloves with a stupefied look on her face.

"Do I take this to mean you're surrendering, colonel?"

"I like to stop and smell the roses once in a while, doctor. I'm sure you've used that expression before on your patients," Mustang said as he took out a single trimmed red rose from his jacket pocket. He took a deep whiff and coughed. "Ack. Pollen. Here, care to try?"

"No, I'm allergic to pollen you imbecile, Don't-"

"Whoops, too late," Colonel Mustang tossed the rose gently towards her. She shielded her face. Roy snapped his fingers and a small sonic boom exploded near the rose, expanding it into tiny petal fragments . Dr. Emilia gasped involuntarily and breathed in the pollen dispersed by the blast.

"What? Mustang doesn't need gloves anymore? He's amazing!" The crowd started whispering.

"No, take a closer look: his hands are marked with transmutation circles!"

"Smart backup. He couldn't make a fire from snapping his bare fingers, so he modified the oxygen density to create a small blast of air!"

"Oh no! What's happened to Dr. Emilia?!" The whispers grew louder until the audience began to talk louder and louder to hear one another.

Dr. Emilia was coughing and clawing at her throat. She seemed to be experiencing difficulties breathing.

"Someone get this woman a stretcher and take her to the infirmary! Who's the attending physician?" Mustang shouted as Dr. Emilia fell to the ground. He helped her stand back up as the judges decided on the final score.

"You were one of the thirty beasts...cough...sent to conquer Ishballa during the war Fuhrer Bradly started, Mustang," Dr. Emilia whispered to Roy, who maintained a neutral expression.

"cough...I thought I'd forgiven the military but it seems I was only lying to myself...cough."

"Go on, colonel. Climb the ranks and seize your destiny...cough...but from this day till your last day in the military...cough...you will know neither joy nor glory..." Dr. Emilia swore at Mustang one last time before she was loaded onto a stretcher.

"Pfft..." Mustang blew a raspberry at her. "I'm thinking about quitting anyway," He said to a dumbfounded Dr. Emilia as she was carried off to the infirmary.

"And the winner by technical knockout is...Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist!" Sheska announced from the judges' panel near Grumman.

"Colonel, do you have any words to share to this great audience? Any remarks on how you snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, as it were?" Sheska handed Mustang the megaphone.

"Ah, yes- thank you staff librarian Sheska: Ahem. I honestly don't know how anybody could have ever questioned my skills. But if there's one advantage I have to confess, it's that of my magnificent eye, my...Roy Eye! The ultimate eye!" Mustang lifted his eyepatch to reveal a glass eye as everyone recoiled from him. The glass eye had a fire symbol etched as its pupil.

The audience erupted into laughter. "What the hell is he doing?"  
"He should get himself a parrot, the pirate look suits him!"

"That is conduct...aah hah hah, conduct most unbecoming of a senior officer, Colonel!" Sheska said as she tried to stifle bouts of laughter.

Mustang bowed deeply and shook Grumman's hand. "Same time next year?" He asked the Fuhrer. "mmhm," Grumman grumbled as though he lost a bet.

Mustang stepped down from the judge's panel and into the audience. "Colonel, it's good to have you back," Lieutenant Hawkeye greeted him with a salute as he approached the adoring crowd.

"Yeah, Colonel, real good to have ya back," Captain Havok said through manly tears as he chewed on his hat. "All of my month's pay-gone in a flash!" He broke out in a sob. "Oh, why'd you have to win this one, Colonel?!"

"Yeah, why?!" Fuery joined in. "A man has got to eat, you know!"

"Ahh, the sound of loyal subordinates groveling- How I miss it! Haha!" Mustang patted his stomach. "Now all I'm missing are my eyebrows. Hawkeye, would you get me a black marker and a mirror?"


	6. Will You Stay or Go?

"Here are the new requisition orders for the library's department of records to handle," Lieutenant Hawkeye heaved a stack of papers onto Staff Librarian Sheska's desk. It landed with a dull thud. "Sheska, how's your work coming along?"

"Why, work is going just fine, thankyouverymuch. It's great to see you, Lieutenant, you should drop by more often," Sheska adjusted the rims of her thick glasses to look more closely at Hawkeye.

"I'll do just that. Would you care for some flowers? I'll bring some over if you like," Hawkeye swept some lint off of her uniform.

"Ahhh...No thank you, I'm fine like this, hah ha," Sheska chuckled nervously. "I never know when those things need watering, I've probably killed about a dozen or so plants before I gave up."

"Oh, that's fine. Tell Winry I said hello when you catch up with her, would you? I'm curious to know how she's doing in Resembool," Hawkeye waved at her and turned to the door.

"Wait, Lieutenant. Ah..." Sheska hesitated.

"Hmm? Is there something else, Sheska?"

"I'm dying to know-what did you think of Colonel Mustang's victory last week?"

"Not very surprising, to tell you the truth. The Colonel never reveals himself until the decisive moment approaches. He never disappoints," Hawkeye said to Sheska.

"But, haven't you heard the whispers? That Colonel Mustang used unfair tactics to win?"

"Hm? What about it?"

"I've heard some idle gossip from soldiers that Mustang somehow knew about Dr. Emilia's allergy to flower pollen before the fight," Sheska said.

"If that were true, it would be awfully close to sabotage. I suppose it depends on the rules of the fight. As I recall, the final round had no such rules," Hawkeye paused before giving her answer.

"Please don't feel that I'm condemning the Colonel, Riza! I just think it's awfully unconventional to win the state alchemy contest without a display of alchemic prowess," Sheska prodded Hawkeye.

"Not at all, you've given no offfense. In war, such deceptive tactics are sometimes necessary," Hawkeye rationalized to Sheska. She did not appear to be fully convinced.

Hawkeye sighed. "Another question, Sheska? I'm all ears."

"I'll get to the point: Lieutenant, it's just that you're the most honest and straightforward servicewoman in the military I know, you're even more honest than Fuhrer Grumman! How could you stand to serve someone like Mustang? I just don't get it!" Sheska asked excitedly.

"Oh, that. Roy and I go back a long way. We trust each other, and I know deep down that he has a very noble purpose in the actions he takes," Hawkeye explained patiently.

"Really?! I really wish I could believe that, Lieutenant. But he's always been so callow with his troops, mocking them and lecturing them all the time. And with the women he encounters, he dates half of them and forgets their names the next day!"

"...He" Hawkeye attempted to respond before Sheska cut her off.

"and he always sends a boucquet of roses whenever he makes a blunder, no matter how severe his mistake! Missed a deadline for important documents? Here's a boucquet of roses! Took another soldier's girlfriend to opera by mistake? Why, another bundle of flowers for your trouble! Bad-mouthed you in front of Grumman and got you demoted? Sorry to hear that, maybe some roses will cheer you up!"

"The last one is new to me, when did that happen?" Hawkeye asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, he's careless, Riza! Surely you can see that? I'm only saying this out of concern for you," Sheska's eyes swelled with tears and she cradled her face in her hands.

"He is careless, there's nothing I can say in his defense about that," Hawkeye shrugged.

"Sooner or later he's going to hurt your career, don't you think?" Sheska asked.

"If it comes to that, I'll still follow his lead," Hawkeye lowered her gaze.

"AAAGH! I just don't see how you manage to go on every day like this, I don't know whether to envy your perseverence or to pity it!" Sheska sat back down. "I'm sorry to be burdening you like this, lieutenant. I mean well, I really do."

"I can see that, Sheska. Roy's got a good heart. It's just that most people can't see past his shell of indifference and mockery."

"But how do you know that? Was it something he's done for you in the past that convinced you?"

"Ahh...it's more of an intuition. He's earned my trust over the years," Hawkeye said with some uncertainty in her voice. "Although lately I've been getting the feeling that the Colonel's been distancing himself from everyone in our unit."

"All the more reason for you to be on guard, Riza! That man is up to strange things lately," Sheska said as she glanced around left and right for signs of eavesdroppers.

Hawkeye gave her a friendly wave and walked out of Sheska' office. She decided to head to the soldiers' lounge next to the cafeteria. Seated on the sofa were Sergeant Fuery and Captain Havok.

"Afteroon, Sergeant. Captain," Hawkeye greeted them and sat across from them. "What's with those dour faces? Has something happened?"

"Dour is what my stomach is feeling after living on a week of tomato soup. You know what Colonel Mustang's victory cost us, don't you?" Captain Havok grumbled.

"Tomato soup? It's ketchup mixed in boiled water, Havok!" Fuery looked to be on the verge of tears. "Oh, Why did I listen to you and bet against the Colonel?!"

Hawkeye sighed. "Well gambling is-"

"Against regulations, yeah yeah. What did you have for lunch today, Lieutenant?" Havok eyed her.

"Just something from the canteen," she remarked.

"Really. You won the entire pot from everyone who bet and you didn't splurge on anything fancy?"

"That's a private matter entirely, Captain," Hawkeye avoided his gaze and took a sip from her cup.

"Please buy us a loaf of bread!" Havok sobbed openly and latched onto her leg.

"You've got your military rations, Captain. I don't see why you feel the need to beg," Hawkeye shook him off of her leg.

"We pawned off our ration cards so we could pay up!" Fuery replied. "We're desperate men, lieutenant! I don't think I can even see straight right now!"

Hawkeye laughed. "That'll teach you. You shouldn't have bet against your superior officer anyway. I'll take your case to Mustang and see what he thinks."

She walked to Mustang's office and opened the door without knocking. Mustang was fast asleep with his head resting on his pile of unfinished paperwork from the day before.

"Colonel?"

Mustang did not wake. The office was more or less not on fire or in a state of irredeemable damage, so Hawkeye walked in and closed the door. She took a look at the flowers on the windowsill. They had been watered just a few hours ago.

"Colonel, it's me." She shook Mustang's shoulder gently.

"Mhuh-wha-Oh, hey Lieutenant!" Mustang shook his head to dispel his drowsiness. "What brings you here?"

"Sir, I work here," Hawkeye deadpanned.

"Hell if I know. These days I'm not even sure I work here," Mustang mumbled.

"Have you made up your mind, sir?"

"Eh? What's that, Hawkeye?"

"To stay in the military or to leave," Hawkeye replied.

"Mmm," Mustang hummed.

"Mmm?" Hawkeye hummed back.

"Ahh, these things take time, dammit! I deserve a break after stomping Dr. Emilia," He stretched his arms and yawned.

"Sir, you should know that your reputation seems to have suffered after your victory," Hawkeye said. "Just today, I heard several of your subordinates complain about you."

"Hah! Bet it was Havok. Serves him right for betting against me," Mustang grinned.

"Even so, I told them you'd approve an advance on next month's pay for them," Hawkeye replied.

"You're too kind, Hawkeye. Seriously. You'll spoil them," Mustang sat up straight.

"And what about you? What's your thought process like?"

"Lieutenant, why does it matter? I'm secure in my position, at least for the moment."

"Because there are people who depend on you. You're in charge of an entire unit. We deserve to know what your plans are," Hawkeye replied.

Mustang sighed. "That's fair." He got up from his seat and tried to walk out the door.

"Where are you going?" Hawkeye stood in front of the door, blocking him.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Mustang replied.

"Roy, please answer me," Hawkeye implored. "Will you stay or go? I'll follow you anywhere, you know that."

"Just as soon as I've cleared my head. I'll be back, lieutenant." He gestured at her to move aside.

"Colonel," Riza began.

"Lieutenant," Roy mimicked her tone.

"Fine. I'll escort you there, then."

"Uh-that won't be necessary,"

"I insist," Hawkeye glared at him.

Mustang half-laughed, half-sobbed. "You know Hawkeye, I was really enjoying that nap. I'll be back in five minutes, I promise."

Hawkeye relented. "I'll come looking if you're not back in five," She called as he nearly ran out the door.

Mustang sprinted to the soldiers' lounge. He found Staff Sergeant Falman sitting by the coffee table. "Falman! Thank god. Do you know where Havok is?"

"He's begging for food in the cafeteria," Falman looked up from his book. "He's there with Fuery."

"Aaagh! My five minutes are almost up," Mustang looked at his pocketwatch and sprinted down to the cafeteria.

"Havok! There you are!" Mustang panted as he found the Captain sitting on a bench.

"Havok, how would you like to earn another month's worth of advance pay?" He clutched him by the shoulders.

"Colonel? Would I?! What do I need to do?"

"Do you know anyone with a feminine voice who can call me at my office?"

"My...girlfriend?" Havok said with suspicion.

"Have her call me. Tell her to beg me to come to her, and to say it's an emergency!" Mustang sprinted back up the stairs before Havok could respond.

Mustang nearly kicked the door open in his office. "Lieutenant, I'm back!" He struggled to catch his breath.

"Sir, is something wrong?" Riza looked up from the detective novel she was reading.

"Nothing, nothing at all, haha," he sat back down.

"Let's begin. Do you still want to climb the ranks and replace Fuhrer Grumman?" Riza put down her book and faced Roy.

"If the circumstances become necessary," Mustang set his head down on his table and stared at the phone nearby with longing.

"But let's say that the military will remain as it is for the foreseeable future. Will your ambition hold in that case?"

Mustang sighed. "I suppose not, Hawkeye."

"And if you relinquished your ambitions, would you prefer to continue in the military in your current position or to pursue a civilian life?"

Mustang slumped his head onto the table with a dull thud. "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?"

"And the question you must answer, Colonel."

"Is this thing working?" Mustang picked up the phone and blew into the receiver.

"Sir? Expecting a call?"

"No, haha, just checking to see if something's amiss with the phone," he put the phone to his ear. "Nope, nothing! You never know, it's important to do routine maintenance like this."

"RIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG!" The phone's ring suddenly startled Mustang. He nearly jolted out of his chair.

"Ye-ouch!" Mustang gritted his teeth. "Yes, this is Colonel Mustard speaking. Who is it?"

Hawkeye could hear a high pitched voice coming from the phone. She furrowed her brow, suspicious of the Colonel's enthusiasm.

"Oh? What's that, Miss Langley? An emergency? Uh huh? Only I can help? Why, I'm quite busy but it seems as though there's no choice!"

Mustang hung up the phone with a look of satisfaction.

"Lieutenant, duty calls! Havok's girlfriend is in trouble and she requested my personal assistance," he gloated to her.

"Colonel, please drop the act. We both know Havok is more than capable of taking care of his girlfriend," Hawkeye said.

"Why, go to the cafeteria and ask Havok yourself, lieutenant! She asked for me specifically!" He grabbed his jacket and put it on.

For the first time in recent memory, Riza could not say anything in reply. She swallowed her disappointment and watched the Colonel gleefully skip out the door. Then she clenched her fist.


	7. Springtime in Amestris

Hawkeye had had a long workday in the office and was relaxing in her apartment in the women's quarters.  
Her mind was blank, her small radio filling the air with a colorless classical symphony.

She set down her tea coaster just as she heard a knock on her door. She looked in the door's eyehole. "Just great," she thought. "He's got some nerve to show up here." She opened the door to an immaculately dressed Mustang, complete with fedora and a boucquet of roses.

"What are you doing here?" Hawkeye folded her arms and asked him.

"I-I coulnd't confide in you earlier today, and I came here to apologize," Mustang took off his fedora.

"So? Why are you here now?"

"I'm sorry, Riza," Mustang said. He hoped to sound especially remorseful.

"Apology not accepted," Riza tried to close the door. Mustang stuck his foot in between the doorway.

He yelped as the door closed on his foot. "Riza, please hear me out. I can't help being an idiot sometimes, you know this."

"After all the lengths you went through to ignore me, why should I listen to another word?" She let go of the door knob.

"Because I wanted to tell you, I really did."

"Tell me what?"

"That I don't know how I can choose between a military life with you and a civilian life alone," Mustang uttered.

That disarmed Hawkeye. She opened the door and let him in. Then she closed the door on his foot one more time, albeit with less force than the first time.

"Oh come on! Please just let me in," Mustang threw his hands up in the air.

"I've told you on more than one occasion, Roy. I'd follow you anywhere," She told him as she took his jacket and hung it on a clothing rack nearby. She took the bundle of roses and set it aside on her coffee table.

"But I don't want you to!" Mustang blurted out. "Riza, you've got a wonderful career in the military. You could rise to the top on your merits as a soldier alone."

"Hush, not so loud!" She closed the door gently. "And it's not your choice-"

"If I leave, you'll leave too, isn't that what you said? Luckily, I've come up with a decent solution. I thought it through, and I think you should transfer to another unit."

Riza's faint smile disappeared. She stood silently contemplating his words as a cold rage seethed inside of her, oblivious to Mustang.

"That way, we can both remain in the military. You won't have to clean up my messes, I won't have to worry about a civilian life or climbing the ranks for a while. A few more years, and we'll see if old Fuhrer Grumman is still kicking around."

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

"Eh? What do you think, Hawkeye? Pretty clever, eh?" He nudged her on her arm playfully.

Suddenly she snapped. Letting out a furious roar, Riza dove straight into Mustang and tackled him to the ground.

"You-ungrateful-clueless-wretch-" She uttered an insult in between each breath as she clobbered his face.

"Oww, let go, lieutenant, no-not my arms, what're you doing?"

Hawkeye twisted his arms together like a pretzel and pinned his face against the wall. Her expression was a mixture of fury and satisfaction.

"you-selfish-arrogant-buffoon!"

"Ouch! No, not the face! What do you want from me, woman?" Mustang groaned.

"Just relieve me of my post, if you're so desperate to see me go!" Hawkeye pinned his arms closer together, making Mustang yelp in pain.

"No, not a chance," he grunted.

"Come on, I dare you, Colonel Mustard," She pressed on his back and whispered into his ears.

"I'd rather you break my arms," Mustang gritted through his teeth.

"That can be arranged," She grunted and pushed harder. She heard something snap. Was it a bone?

Hawkeye heard Mustang gasping for air from the struggle. She came to her senses and felt an immediate pang of utter shame. She loosened her grip and let him go, mumbling nonsense as she felt herself shaking.

Mustang coughed and wheezed, he could barely stand. He hadn't had a fight like that in years! And to think it would be Hawkeye who would give it to him.

"I-I" Hawkeye felt the room spinning. What had she done? Was this a nightmare? She'd always resisted her urges to speak her mind, to retaliate for any reason at all against Roy's blunders. But today she'd reached her breaking point.

Mustang coughed and laughed. His heart was pounding, his back ached and his arms felt numb. He didn't know at all why; he took her hands into his own and gave them a squeeze. She looked up at him with uncertainty. Too late to stop it! He followed his instincts and pulled her toward him for a kiss.

She kissed him back reluctantly. A wave of relief washed over her. And then, the urge to hurt him came flowing back. She slapped him with enough force to stagger him. Then she grabbed his face and kissed him roughly.

"Wait, let's talk-"

"Shut up, Roy," She pushed him against the wall and kissed him all along his neck, biting down occasionally. "Yeowch! Not so rough!" He bemoaned.

Riza ignored him: "You've had this coming for a long time..."

She was aroused by his tiny yelps of pain and ripped his shirt off. She kissed him on the scars he'd gotten from the fight with Fuhrer Bradley.

That woke Roy Mustang up. He felt the blood rushing to his Netherlands and clawed at her back. That only made her want it more. She tore off her top and shimmied out of her uniform trousers.

"What-about"

"What?!" She dragged him to her bedroom.

"What-about-" Mustang stripped down and got into bed with her.

"I can't hear you!" She yelled and nearly ripped his undergarments off of his legs.

"Regulations-" He stopped mid-sentence as he joined with her in unison.

The lovemaking seemed to last for an eternity until it was over. When their furious tango subsided, she wouldn't let go of him, so he fell asleep in her arms.

The next morning, Riza woke up to the smell of eggs frying. Had anything important changed between the two of them? "No, but it's nice to air out the laundry once in a while," she thought with a smile.

"I don't know about you, Riza, but I think the military is really missing out," Roy handed her a plate of sunny eggs.

"On what, sir?"

"Oh, you know-the hanky panky," Roy winked. With his eyepatch, Riza couldn't tell if he was merely struggling to blink.

"I can't believe you just said hanky panky," Riza said through a mouthful of runny eggs. "You really are a softie, aren't you Roy?"

"Shhh...can't let the higher ups know about that. Those wolves are constantly sniffing for signs of weakness."

"You're such a dork, you know that? You've got a soft heart underneath that shell of mockery," Riza teased.

"Why, I'll just take that as a compliment coming from you, Eliza," Mustang grinned.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," she grasped his hands.

"Well, this changes everything," Roy slid his hand out of her grasp and lifted his jacket from her clothes hanger.

"Roy? What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry I haven't been honest with you lately. The truth is, I haven't been honest with myself in a long time. Not since those Elric brothers left," Mustang replied as he put on his clothes.

"I don't think I can carry on this charade any longer. Grumman was right to push me out," he put on his uniform and opened the door. "I just hope civilian life will suit me somehow."

"Colonel, let's talk about this," Riza got up and approached him.

"Call me Roy, Eliza." Mustang grinned.

"Roy, You know I'll follow you anywhere, but this is a drastic change for you-"

"Maybe Major Armstrong will have some thoughts," Mustang walked out the door.

"Stubborn man," Hawkeye whispered and followed behind. But when she peered out the door, he had disappeared without a trace.

As soon as he was out the door, Mustang sprinted left and downstairs to hide from Hawkeye. He panted and almost ran into a young enlisted soldier. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Miss, wha-"

"Hey! Male soldiers are strictly forbidden from female quarters, wh-don't I recognize you? Aren't you Colonel Mustang?"

"Oh ho that's close, but no cigar, sergeant Keene!" Mustang quickly read the nametag on her uniform and lied to her:

"My name is sergeant Fuery, I serve Colonel Mustard. I was just trying to find a shortcut to the infirmary and got lost on my way over," he said.

"Infirmary is on the first floor next to-"

"Well gotta go, time flies and the early bird gets access to medical care first!" He sprinted past her and took the flight of stairs down to the infirmary.

He slammed the door open and was relieved to find that no one else was in line to see the attending doctor.

"Doctor! Oh, it hurts bad, doctor," He moaned as the nurse applied a cold pack to his shoulder.

"Your shoulder is not dislocated but it looks like someone stretched your arm back quite a bit. That's why you're feeling a lot of joint pain along your shoulder and elbow. What were you doing, colonel?," The nurse explained.

"Oh? I was just stretching, morning calisthetics, haha!" Mustang scratched his noggin like an embarassed schoolboy.

"And the bite marks on your neck?"

Mustang panicked. "My...puppy is very affectionate, yes, I keep a secret puppy in my apartment," he said with a chuckle.

"Those look like human teeth marks to me," she replied.

"...Did I mention that I play strange games with my puppy? Like putting dentures inside of his mouth and dressing him up in a cute uniform. I like to give it orders for fun. 'Ten-hut-Salute, boy!' Haha, it's great fun, until of course he bites me along the neck," Mustang cringed at the mess he was making of himself.

"Dear god: please make this nurse believe me! I'll be good from now on," he prayed desperately.

"Ok...? Well That's a pretty intense morning ritual you've got, colonel. Maybe try to take it easier in the morning," The confused nurse joked as she wrapped some bandages around his shoulder. "Take these pills to ease your ache. And-"

"Thank you doctor...Oh my god! I'm late to my post!" Mustang pulled his jacket from the coat hanger and sprinted out the door.

"Oh, Colonel, I was just about to finish with sorting your paperwork for the day," Hawkeye greeted him as he entered his office.

Mustang froze in horror. "Everything's normal. Nothing's changed," he whispered to himself and sat down behind his desk.

Hawkeye approached with the paperwork. Mustang instinctively dodged back. Her hair was tied back into a neat bun, and she was immaculately dressed, but his mind wandered to her lithe pale form, lying on a bed covered in rose petals, her mouth biting down on his neck and whispering adoring words to him...

"Roy, is everything alright?"

"Huh-I'm just a bit flustered, Hawkeye. It'll go away," Mustang panted, out of breath and red in the face.

"How did the meeting with Major Armstrong go? Will you tender your resignation immediately, or will you consider taking a leave of absence to sort through your feelings on this matter?" Hawkeye asked.

"AHHGH! Dammit! I-I can't think straight!" Mustang cradled his head in his hands.

Hawkeye put a hand on his shoulder. "Roy, it doesn't have to be-"

Mustang flinched from her touch and stood up. "Ahhh-Hawkeye, watch over things for me, will ya? I'm going to go pay old Fuhrer Grumman a visit!"

"Colonel, don't make any hasty decisions!" She called to him before he shut the door on his way out.

Mustang knocked on Grumman's door. "Yes? This is Colonel Mustard-I mean Mustang. I'm here to see the Fuhrer."

"Do you have an appointment, Colonel Mustang?" Grumman's secretary asked.

"Well, no, but it's an urgent matter. It won't take very long," Mustang replied.

"I'll have to check with the Fuhrer," she replied.

"Colonel Mustang? Come on in, Roy," Grumman opened the door as soon as he heard.

"Thank you, Fuhrer. This shouldn't be long." He shut the door to his office and dropped all pretense.

"You tricked me, Grumman!" Mustang pointed a finger at him. "And to think all this time I thought I had you all figured out! The endless piles of paperwork, the grueling, monotonous assignments for my unit, I thought you were demonstrating your authority over me, but you really want me to resign completely, don't you?!"

Grumman laughed: "I'll be honest with you, Colonel. I've never had such a hard time convincing someone to retire."

"What?! But why?! Haven't I served you faithfully all of these years, Fuhrer?"

"Roy, I'll repeat what I said a while back. You have gifts that are frankly wasted in the military. I just think you'd be a great deal happier as a civilian, now that you've fought your last battle. The Rose Alchemist, the soldiers have taken to calling you. The great pollinator of Amestris, hah!"

"But what would I know about civilian life?"

"Struggle builds character, doesn't it?" Grumman laughed again. "So have you made a decision? I'll respect your choice, Roy. Will you stay or go, or is there some other factor you'd like to talk about?"

"I-I don't want to say," Mustang hesitated.

"And yet you do want to say, because you came to my office to blow up my schedule. Get on with it," Grumman gestured at his door.

"I fell in love with my subordinate."

"As I recall, you've always felt an affection for her that would be considered improper under military regulations," Grumman looked at him like he was stating the obvious.

"I can't bear her serving under me any longer. I can't even stay in the same office and concentrate!" Mustang pulled at his hair.

"So switch units," Grumman shrugged and sipped on his coffee.

"She almost ripped my shoulder from its socket when I suggested it!" Mustang said with desperation.

Grumman laughed heartily. "Oh, she's a keeper, Roy. Is she the reason you've been sticking around?"

"Riza means the world to me, so how can I resign my post if it means that she'll throw away her career to follow me?"

"Do you think my grand-niece is a fan of the military, too? You're even dumber than you look, Roy," Grumman set down his cup.

"No, I-What?! She's your niece?! Why didn't you tell me until now?!"

"Ah, Lieutenant Hawkeye, I've been looking out for her ever since her father died in service. She joined the military out of a sense of duty to continue her father's legacy of service."

"She came to me looking for some advice this morning while you were in the infirmary. Apparently she'd hurt you pretty badly the night before. Some strange argument that you started with her, apparently."

Mustang's ears glowed red at that and he was reduced to mumbling about morning calisthetics.

"Heh, well she came to me with concerns about carrying on an inappropriate relationship with her superior officer. She made up her mind to quit the military to pursue this relationship and asked me if I would consider discharging her, but she worried that her discharge would reflect poorly on you, and your aspirations to remain in the military."

Grumman patted Mustang on the shoulder. "I told her: 'Roy Mustang, that looney case? But you could have the pick of the military's finest men!' She was adamant, though, so I assented to her request. I even told her that you have no plans to remain in the military either, although I didn't tell her that I needed to convince you of that first."

Mustang wasn't sure whether to feel sad or joyful at the news.

"You see? she wants to leave the military on good terms, just like you. Now, If only we had a proper psychiatrist who could talk through these feelings between fellow soldiers, we'd be able to speed this along," Grumman narrowed his eyes at Mustang.

"Instead, our staff psychiatrist is in the hospital with a severe pollen allergy so it falls upon me to be the matchmaker: I wish you both the best of luck, Roy. Take care of her, or rather, let her take care of you. You two make a beautiful couple," Grumman shook Mustang's hand to snap him out of his daze. Mustang stared at him absent-mindedly, unable to comprehend what Grumman was saying.

"Oh, for god's sake, man: Go in peace, you ingrate, and be happy. I mean it! The military's taken some of your best years, enjoy the youth you still have with Eliza."

Grumman continued: "May I suggest taking up gardening? You can buy a house with your military pension, live in a fairy tale of your own making. Grow some roses yourself and smell them once a while. Gift them to your friends, or better yet to your enemies."

Mustang nodded and sniffed as he held back tears. "Oh, I thought I had to choose between a stifling military life with Riza and a lonely life as a civilian! Thank you sensei! Words alone can't express my gratitude towards you!" He bowed deeply to his old teacher and walked toward the door.

"Ahahaha!" Grumman turned to his windows and cackled with malice. "Now that Mustang's unit has collapsed, there's no one to stop me from completely dominating the military! No one will be able to refute my authority!"

"Uh sir, I can still hear you, I'm not out the door yet," Mustang pointed out.

"Like I said, no one! Traditional dress uniforms are back in style! No more enlisted women on the front lines! Pork is back on the cafeteria menus!" Grumman's eyes gleamed dangerously.

"Ok, I don't wanna hear this," Mustang walked out the door to begin his new life. He tripped on Havok, Breda, Fuery and Falman, who had been eavesdropping while they were closely huddled near the floor, falling flat on his face.

Hawkeye and Sheska, who had been standing nearby, looked on with bemusement. "There's still time to reconsider this whole relationship, ya know," Sheska whispered to Hawkeye.

"Not a chance, Sheska," Riza said with a grin. She gave Roy a hand as he got up and led him outside to the courtyard, where spring ruled the day.


End file.
